What Sam Forgets
by Sammysmissingshoe
Summary: A look into Dean's mind as he watches Sam "cope" with his broken wall. Dean POV, set in Season 7. T for mentions of torture and hellishness.


AN: I'm seriously juggling three other story ideas after this one is over, so I'm going insane. If y'all know me, I'm a diehard Sam girl, but this Dean story just popped into my head. Own nothing from this story, gaining nothing from this story, achieving nothing in life.

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I watch Sam seize, suffering unimaginable tortures, locked somewhere inside his head. I'm useless, unable to do anything but hold him close, and try to coax him back into consciousness. His flailing limbs lash out, occasionally hitting me, but I'm not what matters then, only Sam.

I listen to Sam tell me the nightmares aren't the only problem. Lucifer himself will show up to taunt him, try to make Sam believe that the world isn't real, that _I'm _not real. He took Sammy from me once, I'm not letting him go again.

My heart breaks as Sam aims a gun at me, brokenly confessing that he doesn't remember driving to a warehouse. He's been forgetting a lot of things lately… So, many, things.

I sit idly by, and pretend not to notice Sam digging his thumb into the scar on his palm. He presses until it starts to bleed, and I regret ever showing him that pain makes the devil go away.

I make jokes, I act like nothing's wrong when I know Sam's falling apart. I poke fun about Sam's hell vision, when I know every time Sam closes his eyes, memories of flame and torture are all Sam sees.

I tell him that his soulless memories don't matter, they weren't really him, but he doesn't believe me, and I'm not sure I do either.

I let it slide when I have to call his name five times before he finally hears me, and he looks away from whatever I can't see. The fear washes off his face, and he acts as though nothing's happened, and so I do the same.

I wake him up from nightmares, pretending that I didn't hear him screaming my name, often followed by, "please" and, "stop". I know the devil used me to hurt Sam, so I give Sam every reason to forget those memories, to remember who I really am.

I get his attention every time I see his face flush, and his upper lip twitches. I know Sam better than anyone. Lucifer may have spent centuries with Sam, but I still know him better. I know that's Sam's look when he's afraid or hurting, but he still tries to hide it. He was never good at hiding, even as kids, he could never hide.

It wasn't just secrets he couldn't hide. He would run and hide when we were playing a game, and all I had to do was say his name, and his high pitched giggles would give him away. He would try to storm off when he got mad, but I could always find him. I'd let him cry on my shoulder, I still would if he didn't feel the need to hide how he really feels from me.

"No chick flick moments" I used to tell him. I can't take it back now, but I wish I'd never said those haunting four words. Maybe I let him think that I didn't really care, that I didn't really want to listen to him. I sure know how to bottle up my own emotions, why did Sam have to follow suit?

We were alike in more ways than I had hoped. Aside from constantly lying to each other, we've both seen our fair share of the unspeakable. Not just hell, but we'd seen each other make impossible decisions, often ending with one of us covered in blood, sometimes our own. We've both killed, sometimes unnecessarily. Too many times we'd screwed humanity over because we thought we were doing the right thing.

It's not just Sam who's like me, Cas too. He'd been desperate, and done things he shouldn't have, and look what that lead to. Just add him to the list of people I've let down. Sam, Mom, Dad, Lisa, Ben… Don't make me go on.

I don't tell Sam that I don't sleep. The guilt would eat him up if he knew. I'm too busy waiting by his bedside, waiting to whisper nonsense comforts to get him to stop moaning and thrashing in his sleep. I pretend I don't hear him crying out at night. Some part of me wants to convince me that if I act like everything's okay long enough it could all turn out that way soon enough. Lying to myself definitely always makes everything work out.

Sam doesn't have to say it, but I know his hell was cold, at least, the worst of it would have been. When I see him shiver as he sleeps, I hardly even remember putting a blanket over him it happens so often. Anything to keep him sleeping peacefully. Every little twitch makes me think of some new hellish torture he's enduring right then, and I pray to whoever the hell's listening that I'm over thinking it.

I've seen my fair share of Hell. I know mine doesn't even compare to Sam's, but that doesn't mean I don't get it. But I know I was weaker than he was. Sam didn't get the offer, he didn't get a chance to get off the rack, why would he? The devil doesn't know mercy. He wasn't trying to make Sam break a seal, he just wanted Sam to break.

Over and over, I hear Sam call out names of the one's he's lost. Whether the devil used their faces or just their memories, he well succeeded in making Sam scream, the same scream I hear every time I close my eyes. Any moment of peace shatters when I picture Sam on that rack; crying, pleading, calling out to anyone to rescue him. He calls out my name the most.

I try to make him eat, all the while knowing that it won't stay down. After watching my skin slowly peeled off my body, I was reluctant to eat anything that had once been alive. Sometimes they'd feed me in hell. Don't ask me what it was.

I had Alastair, Sam had Satan himself, how am I supposed to relate to what he's been through? Alastair was Hell's best, but he had to have learned from someone. I've no doubt about who taught him.

Hell wasn't just pain and misery, it was solitary, the epitome of humiliation. Demons had no shame or dignity, would should anyone in their domain have any? No amount of pleading or begging would spare anyone, no matter what the torture. There was no hiding anything.

I see Sam twitch every time I tell him that everything's gonna be okay, and I almost hear Lucifer mocking him, laughing at him, trying to convince Sam of what's real. Even from inside the cage, the devil doesn't cease his tortures.

I don't miss Sam's shudder the time I over describe a victim's mutilated corpse, no doubt an image of himself in their place flashing in his mind. I'd been there too. And if I ask if he's okay, I know he lies through his teeth and tells me he is.

In the midst of all these things, I can't help but think back to my own time in Hell. What Sam forgets, is that I still remember.

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It always bugged me that Sam remembering his Hell was such a huge deal, because it's almost never acknowledged that every waking moment, Dean still remembers every second of his. Sam got his memories taken away, but Dean never did. Whew, glad I got that out of my system. Lemme know what y'all thought if you've got the time to drop a review. You'll be hearing from me real soon, but until then, carry on my wayward sons!


End file.
